One year ago this week I traveled to Lisbon for a story that appears today on Literary Hub: https://lithub.com/wandering-through-literary-lisbon-in-search-of-pessoas-disquiet/
We've gone from The Plot Against America to Goodbye, Columbus.
I had a dream that I was at a small book fair with P.J. O’Rourke. I asked him for suggestions on where to send my memoir, forgetting to mention that he appears in it.
I haven’t read American Dirt – I read Paul Theroux’s empathetic (and true) On the Plain of Snakes: A Mexican Journey – but it seems to me that when we start telling authors what they can and cannot write about we’ve entered the old world of the Soviet Union.